


Finale

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [40]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan's future comes into question.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finale

Logan was waiting in Meeting Room A, scowling at the wall in front of him. It had been almost four hours since he had been confined to the room and in that time the door had not been opened even once. He had no idea what was going on outside the room and he hadn’t a clue what had happened to any of the others. All he knew was that he fucking _hated_ being made to wait and that this was a fact that Emma goddamn Frost was more than aware of.

He folded his arms and glared at the wall opposite him. He’d long ago decided that he wouldn’t give Frost the satisfaction of seeing him crumble. He would take whatever punishment the House threw at him – whether it be incarceration or the Attic – and he would damn well stick his middle finger up at whole fucking institution if it was the very last thing that he did.

Which, a nasty little portion of his mind reminded him, it probably would.

Despite his resolution to stand fast, Logan had almost reached the end of his tether by the time anything actually happened. Hours had passed and Logan, who was not the most patient of men at the best of times, was thoroughly sick of the sight of the excruciatingly dull, white-painted room. He had just begun to contemplate an attempt to break down the door by battering it with his chair when the door was finally pushed open and there, at long last, was Emma Frost. 

Logan immediately went still. He watched, unblinking, as Frost made her way into the room and set a thick white folder on top of the table before then gracefully slipping into the seat in front of him. It was only then that she lifted her head and deigned to look at him, allowing their eyes to meet.

Logan glared at her. ‘Here to take down my final words, Frost?’ he sneered, deliberately making no effort to correct his obnoxiously slouched posture despite the look of displeasure that Emma directed at him. ‘Cause I’ve come up with a couple of real beauties here that I’d just _love_ to have taken down on record.’

Emma allowed her eyes to hover disapprovingly over Logan’s slouched form for a moment before she finally turned her cold gaze on him. ‘That, unfortunately, I can well imagine,’ she said with a thin smile, ‘But maybe next time, Mr. Howlett.’

Logan raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re not even gonna listen to a condemned man’s last words?’ He shook his head and folded his arms over his chest. ‘After I spent such a long time on them, too.’

‘I rather doubt that you had anything _else_ to do,’ Emma smiled sweetly at him but Logan couldn’t mistake the dig for anything other than what it was. ‘But, marvellous though I am certain your – perfectly unwarranted – imagined final words will be, I am afraid that I really don’t have the time right now to give them the attention that they deserve.’

Logan’s eyes narrowed. He eyed Emma cautiously, unsure of what to make of her words. ‘What are you saying?’ he asked warily, his back tense.

Emma gave him a look. ‘I am saying,’ she said with deliberate calm, ‘that you will have to postpone your eulogy, Mr. Howlett. I am not done with you just yet.’

Logan wasn’t sure whether or not this was a good thing. ‘So you’re not sending me up to the Attic?’ he demanded, watching Emma’s reaction closely.

Emma shook her head. ‘Not today,’ she said lightly but Logan could clearly hear the underlying threat in her words.

He let out a grunt and allowed himself to relax back into his chair. ‘So,’ he said gruffly, spreading his legs and slumping in his seat in a way that made Emma wrinkle her nose in distaste. ‘If you’re not killing me and you’re not tossing me in the Attic then what else have you got in store for me?’

Emma cocked her head. ‘What do _you_ think that I have in store for you?’ she asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Logan shrugged. ‘I really couldn’t care less,’ he drawled, reaching into the pocket of his trousers before remembering with a scowl that he didn’t actually have any cigars left on him. ‘It’s not like I’m sorry for what I did.’ He scratched his cheek then, considering. ‘I doubt you’re planning anything pretty, though.’ He was silent for a brief moment but then he shrugged again. ‘It doesn’t matter – I can take it. Although,’ he added as if in afterthought, ‘if you’re planning on having me neutered, I’ll have to change my mind and vote for the Attic.’

Emma smirked. ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ she murmured.

‘Yeah,’ Logan snorted ‘You do that.’ His eyes then darted out to meet Emma’s. ‘Seriously, though – why are you here Frost? ‘Cause I know it ain’t for my skills in making polite conversation.’

Emma watched him for a moment, eyeing him carefully. Sat as she was, all decked out in white, she looked like an angel that had been sent down from heaven. Which, of course, was nothing short of ironic.

After a minute she stirred herself. ‘Well,’ she said, straightening up in her chair and looking at him thoughtfully. ‘I suppose there are a number of reasons. I have a great deal to discuss with you, after all.’

‘You do?’ Logan asked, feeling a little sceptical.

‘Of course,’ Emma smiled sweetly. ‘You can’t make an attempt to abscond with one of my Actives and not expect to be asked about it, after all.’

Logan grimaced.

‘Tell me,’ Emma’s voice was cool but there was an icy glint in her eye. ‘Was the break-out a spur of the moment decision or was there more forethought involved? I must admit that I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find out that it was the latter, considering the amount of planning that went into it. Or rather,’ she sniffed, ‘the lack thereof …’

Logan scowled. ‘Fuck you, lady,’ he snarled and for some reason that made him feel marginally better. ‘And fuck you again if you think I’m talking. You can glare and threaten all you want, Frost, but you won’t be getting anything out of me.’

Emma frowned but she didn’t seem to be particularly taken aback by his response. ‘What a surprise,’ she muttered under her breath. She then calmly flicked her hair back and studied Logan for a moment, her gaze assessing. ‘I could make it worth your while, you know,’ she murmured at last, looking carefully over Logan’s shoulder to the wall opposite. ‘Give you something in exchange for your cooperation …’

Logan didn’t even pause to consider. ‘Nice try, lady,’ he sneered disdainfully, ‘But I’m not buying anything that you’re selling. I know what goes on behind the cowshed, see? You’re wasting your time, trying to pull that one on me.’

Emma sighed resignedly. ‘Very well,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘I can’t say I am surprised. I have always known that you were a man of principles.’ She then paused and deliberately gazed down at her nails. ‘I had rather thought the same of Mr. Lehnsherr, too. I must admit to being really quite surprised when he agreed to my deal.’

That got Logan’s attention. ‘Deal?’ he growled, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. ‘What deal’s that?’

Emma blinked her eyes artlessly in a way that didn’t fool Logan for an instant. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘We negotiated, he and I, and we eventually came to a resolution that I believe both parties are quite satisfied with.’

Logan went completely still.

‘Oh, don’t worry,’ Emma laughed, amused by the sudden tension in his frame, ‘It’s nothing like what you’re thinking. You should give Mr. Lehnsherr a bit more credit than that. He merely decided to join us, that’s all.’

Logan went cold. ‘You made him a Doll?’ he demanded, baring his teeth and gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

Emma snorted. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said primly. ‘He would hardly have agreed to that. No, Mr. Lehnsherr is not a Doll, never fear.’

‘But he’s part of the House now?’ Logan persisted, watching Emma closely. ‘He actually agreed to be part of this loony-bin … as what? A Handler?’

Emma’s eyes glinted. ‘Yes,’ she said, smiling with satisfaction, ‘Mr. Lehnsherr has indeed joined on as a Handler.’ She paused. ‘ _Charles’s_ Handler, to be precise.’

Logan’s reaction was instantaneous. 

‘ _Sonofabitch!_ ’ he snarled, almost leaping from his chair in anger. ‘You made that asshole _Charles’s Handler_?’

Emma looked unmoved by the outburst. ‘You disapprove, Mr. Howlett?’ she asked lightly.

Logan glared at her. ‘You’re damn right I disapprove,’ he hissed, placing his palms on the table and trying to suppress his overpowering fury. ‘The guy’s _obsessed_ with Charles! What the hell were you thinking?’

Emma shrugged. ‘I think we both know that Lehnsherr’s harmless enough,’ she said evenly. ‘At least where Charles is concerned. His childish little infatuation just means that he’ll be all the more protective of him, that’s all.’ She suddenly fixed Logan with a penetrating look. ‘But that’s not what has got you upset, is it Mr. Howlett?’

‘You’re goddamn right it’s not!’ Logan snarled, unable to restrain himself, slamming his palms on the tabletop and glaring fiercely into Emma’s eyes. ‘That bastard took my fucking _job_. Of _course_ I’m fucking upset! _I’m_ Charles’s Handler, not Lehnsherr!’ He curled his hands into fists and glared at Emma with loathing. ‘Damn it, Frost, if you were going to go ahead and fire me then you could have at least come out and told me that straight away instead being a goddamn _bitch_ about it!’

There was silence and for a moment Logan thought that he had finally gone too far. But then Emma spoke.

‘ _Fire_ you?’ Frost repeated slowly, her expression thoughtful, ‘Oh no – on the contrary, my dear Mr. Howlett – I am _promoting_ you.’

Logan stared at her. ‘What?’ he said flatly, sure that he had misheard.

Emma gave him a thin smile. ‘Congratulations,’ she said dryly. ‘You’ve been promoted. You’re no longer a Handler but the Head of Dollhouse Security.’ She paused for a moment before sarcastically adding, ‘Please don’t feel the need to thank me.’

Logan ignored this last sentence, focusing instead on the one before it. ‘Me?’ he snorted disbelievingly. ‘Are you out of your mind? You want _me_ to be the Head of Security? _Me?_ ’

Emma cocked an eyebrow. ‘I said as much, didn’t I?’ she asked, sounding only slightly annoyed.

Logan’s eyes narrowed and he met Emma’s eyes with suspicion. ‘Why me?’ he demanded, eyeing her mistrustfully.

Emma shrugged. ‘We do need _someone_ to fill Mr. Creed’s shoes,’ she said simply. ‘And since you’re the reason that I’m one Head of Security down …’ she allowed her voice to trail off.

Logan stared at her in disbelief. ‘So you’re saying – what? You’re giving me the job because I just so happened to be the only one here?’

Emma shrugged. ‘It seemed convenient,’ she agreed.

But Logan wasn’t convinced. ‘No,’ he said, shaking his head grimly. ‘That’s bullshit. I’m not buying it. I know you, Frost – you don’t do things just because they’re _convenient_.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘So go ahead and tell me again. Why. Me?’

Emma scowled. She met his eyes for a moment before then making an irritated noise and relenting. ‘Because you’re the only one I can think of who can handle the responsibility,’ she said bluntly. ‘Because I think that you would be the best man for the job. And-’ she hesitated for a second, ‘And because I trust you,’ she finished, causing Logan to start in surprise. More surprising still was the fact that he actually believed her: Emma’s tone was brusque but Logan could tell that she wasn’t just saying these words for effect – she was actually telling the truth.

He eyed her warily, his jaw clamped tight. ‘I don’t get you, lady,’ he said after a moment.

Emma seemed to find this statement rather amusing at first but then she shook her head and sighed. ‘You are a good man, Logan,’ she said quietly, and her tone was strangely sincere. ‘I am in need of good men, here at the Dollhouse.’

‘Even after everything I’ve done?’ Logan demanded, still suspicious. ‘After everything that I tried? You’re still just gonna go ahead and _promote_ me?’

Emma raised an eyebrow. ‘Well look at this way,’ she drawled. ‘If we were to compare which of our actions today was the most treasonous, I think I would come out just a _little_ bit higher on that score than you would.’

That startled a huff of laughter out of Logan in spite of himself. ‘Yeah,’ he said, mouth curling upwards in a smirk. ‘I guess there’s that.’

They were both silent for a moment.

‘Will you do it?’ Emma asked at last, watching him carefully. ‘There are quite a few perks, you know – and the money isn’t half bad either, if I do say so myself …’

Logan snorted at that. ‘What makes you think I need any more money, Frost?’

Emma raised an eyebrow and pointedly directed her gaze down to the front of Logan’s torn and bloodied shirt that hadn’t exactly been at the height of _haute couture_ even to begin with. ‘Nothing, clearly,’ she said dryly before letting out a sniff. ‘But money is the least of it, Mr. Howlett. There are many benefits to being the Head of Security,’ she paused and met his eyes meaningfully. ‘Not least the fact that, in agreeing to the promotion, you will automatically become one of the highest authorities within the Dollhouse, second only to myself.’

That made Logan sit up straighter in his chair. ‘Authority, huh?’ he repeated, narrowing his eyes.

‘Certainly,’ Emma said coolly, watching him with a detached expression on her face. ‘Being in charge of security means that you are in charge of all the security personnel within the House – and that includes Handlers. In fact, not only will you get the final say on who is employed as a Handler within our House but,’ her eyes gleamed as if she were about to pull out her trump card, ‘It will also be up to you to do the background checks on any and all of our prospective clients. Which means,’ her eyes met Logan’s and she smiled. ‘You get full veto rights on all of our customers.’

Logan went still. ‘ _All_ of them?’ he repeated, suddenly alert. He couldn’t help but remember all of the times that Charles had returned from an engagement with bruises on his body or scratches on his arms. Logan’s blood boiled even at the memory.

Emma shrugged. ‘Well you have to give a reasonable and verifiable reason for their rejection,’ she said carelessly, ‘But as long as you have a good reason to screen them out then there shouldn’t be a problem.’ She frowned then, her eyes narrowing. ‘I always thought that Mr. Creed wasn’t nearly as scrupulous about the background checks as I would have liked.’ She glanced at Logan. ‘You may have to go over the lists of our current clients just to check that they all pass muster.’ She paused. ‘ _If_ you decide to take the promotion, of course.’

Logan was silent for a moment. ‘And if I say no?’ he said at last, watching Emma carefully. ‘If I said that I just wanted to go back to my old job – to _Charles_ – then what? Would you let me?’

Emma gave him a look. ‘Surely you remember me telling you that Charles has a new Handler?’ she said reproachfully. ‘It was only a moment or two ago, and you made quite a fuss about it, as I recall …’

Logan glared at her. ‘So that’s a no, then?’ he said sarcastically.

‘That’s a no,’ Emma agreed, nodding her head.

Logan sighed and buried his face in his hands, forcing himself to take deep breaths and just _think_. ‘What if I left?’ he asked suddenly, not lifting his head from his hands. ‘What if I’ve had enough of this place and just want to leave? To walk out that door and not look back? Would you let me do that?’

Emma was silent for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said at last, her voice quiet. ‘Yes, I would, much as I would regret it. But Mr. Howlett,’ here she waited until Logan had lifted his head from his hands and met her eyes. ‘I think that both you and I know that that’s not something that you are going to do.’ She paused. ‘Not while Charles is still here, at any rate.’

Logan grimaced and turned his head away, a look of pain on his face. ‘Fucking stupid, is what it is,’ he muttered to himself, unable to meet Emma’s eyes. ‘He’s a goddamn Doll – it’s not like he even has a clue who I am …’

Emma didn’t respond, for which Logan was grateful. She just sat there with a pensive expression on her face, her thoughts completely hidden away behind a cool, sombre façade.

Logan sighed. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘I’m gonna have to do this, aren’t I?’

Still Emma said nothing.

‘Fuck,’ Logan said again. Then he grimaced. ‘Better send that contract down my way before I change my mind, Frost.’ He gave her a tight, humourless smile. ‘No use pretending that you don’t have it on you. I know how you work. You probably had the damn thing all typed up and ready to go before Creed’s body was cold.’

Emma’s expression did not change. Without moving her eyes away from him, she used a single, manicured finger to push the white folder that lay all but forgotten on the table-top towards him.

‘Hot off the press,’ she murmured, a satisfied look in her eyes.

Logan snorted before reaching for the folder and pulling it open. Inside was a sheaf of neatly-typed sheets stipulating the terms of the contract, all written in clear, evenly-spaced paragraphs. Beside the document lay a slim, white pen.

Logan stared at the two for a moment, taking the sight in. Then he grabbed the pen, flipped to the last page of the contract, and signed his name.

When he looked up again Emma was staring at him with astonishment, an expression that that seemed completely alien to her. A second later and her face was once again blank but she was still looking at him oddly, almost disapprovingly.

‘You didn’t read the contract,’ she said flatly, not looking too pleased about this.

Logan shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ he said blithely, ‘I guess I didn’t. Too many words for me.’ When Emma continued to look unimpressed, he sighed. ‘I don’t see what the big deal is,’ he grunted. ‘I was gonna sign the damn thing anyway.’

‘That’s hardly the point,’ Emma began stiffly but Logan cut her off.

‘Do you think the contract’s legit?’ he demanded, looking her in the eye. ‘That everything’s all straight and fair?’

‘Of course,’ Emma looked almost insulted.

Logan shrugged. ‘Well, there you go,’ he said easily. ‘That’s that, then.’

‘It’s still-’

‘I read the first page,’ Logan said quietly, cutting her off. ‘The contract is for two years … the same amount of time that Charles has left here, funnily enough.’

Emma didn’t react.

Logan sighed. ‘Look,’ he said gruffly, not looking at her, ‘You and I might not get on too well and I don’t agree with a hell of a lot that you do, but-’ he hesitated, as if reluctant to continue, ‘-but I trust you, Frost,’ he said at last. ‘At least in this. So sue me if I’m wrong, but – I just don’t think you would screw me over like that. That’s not the kind of person you are.’

Emma watched him for a moment. ‘You’re an idiot,’ she said at last, her tone blunt. Then she sighed. ‘Luckily, you are also a correct one.’ She gave him a small, not entirely cold smile at that and held her hand out over the table. ‘Welcome back to the team, Mr. Howlett.’

Logan grunted but took her hand anyway, shaking it firmly. ‘I’m just hoping that I don’t end up regretting this,’ he muttered but Emma must have heard, for she smiled.

‘So am I, Mr. Howlett,’ she said dryly even as she got to her feet. ‘Believe me, so am I.’

And with that she smiled, patted Logan on the shoulder, and with a swift turn of her heel, she walked out of the room with the contract in her hand, leaving Logan stock-still and motionless even as the sharp click of her stilettos echoed through the door.

The _open_ door.

Logan didn’t wait for an invitation. In a second he was on his feet, making his way cautiously towards the door, his back tense and his jaw clenched. He crept up to the doorway and paused at the threshold, holding his breath and taking a moment to think the matter through. Then he blinked and, straightening up, turned and walked out of the room.

He was not accosted by a dozen armed security guards as he had almost expected, despite knowing that, having signed Frost’s contract, he was now officially the Head of House Security. What he was met with, however, was the sight of a thin figure leaning against the side of the wall, watching him with an undeniable smirk.

‘I was wondering when you would be coming out of that room,’ Kevin Sydney drawled, not moving from his position against the wall. ‘Almost thought you’d died in there or something.’

Logan felt the corners of his mouth twitch in what had to be his first genuine smile in hours. ‘You’re not that lucky, Morph,’ he muttered, moving forward and coming to stand at Kevin’s side. ‘Neither am I, by the looks of things. I’m stuck here with you, after all.’

Kevin let out one of his high-pitched cackles at that before turning to face Logan fully. ‘So,’ he said casually, meeting Logan’s eyes with an amused expression. ‘I hear congratulations are in order.’

Logan blinked before immediately narrowing his eyes at him. ‘How the hell did you find that out?’ he demanded, glaring at Kevin.

Kevin just grinned and shrugged. ‘I have my ways,’ he said loftily, his eyes sparkling. At Logan’s continued glare, however, he shrugged. ‘Who do you think put your name forward when Frost was trying to sort the whole thing out?’ he asked mildly, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Logan.

Logan stared at him for a moment, not too sure what to make of this. ‘Oh,’ he grunted after a minute. ‘Well – thanks, I guess.’

Kevin watched him with knowing eyes. ‘Sure thing,’ he drawled, his eyes glinting mischievously, ‘… _boss_.’

Logan let out a growl of irritation at that, the name settling awkwardly on his shoulders. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he muttered, glaring down at the floor and shuffling his feet. Then something occurred to him and he looked back up again, frowning. ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’

Kevin shrugged. ‘Just waiting,’ he said easily, leaning back against the wall and crossing his arms.

‘For me?’ Logan asked, surprised.

‘Hah,’ Kevin scoffed at that, ‘You should be so lucky. No,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I’m waiting on someone else. Someone _special_.’

Logan’s eyebrows drew closer together. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked, frowning.

But Kevin just gave him a cunning smile. ‘You’ll see,’ he murmured, and that was all he had to say on the subject.

Before Logan could pursue the matter any further, the door to the room behind Kevin – Meeting Room B, Logan realised – suddenly opened and out stepped Emma Frost. She raised an eyebrow at Logan before turning to face Sydney.

‘He’s ready,’ she said briskly. ‘You know what to do. I shall join you again shortly.’ With one more look in Logan’s direction, she turned around and walked away.

Kevin followed her with his eyes for a moment before turning back to Logan with a speculative expression. ‘You know,’ he said slowly, ‘I think I’m going to let you handle this one.’

Logan blinked in surprise. ‘Why?’ he asked, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. ‘What’s going on? Who is it?’

But Kevin just sent him an enigmatic smile and slowly began to back away. ‘Just thought you might like one last go at your former job,’ he called as he walked away. ‘If it’s not _too_ beneath you, that is.’

Logan frowned after him but Kevin just turned away and, with one last parting smirk, disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Logan remained still for a moment, contemplating Kevin’s words with unease. For some reason he felt his heart begin to beat faster in his chest and a surge of adrenaline ran through his veins. Without knowing exactly what would happen – and yet knowing that whatever did happen would undoubtedly be important – Logan moved towards the door to Meeting Room B and, with only a moment’s hesitation, pushed it open.

‘Hello,’ Charles said pleasantly, looking up at him from inside the room with his head cocked to the side like a bird, ‘Have you come to take me back?’

At first Logan couldn’t understand what he was seeing and he just stared. ‘Charles?’ he asked uncertainly, unsure about what was going on.

His Active – _former_ Active, he unwillingly reminded himself – smiled at that and he strode forward towards Logan, holding his hand out.

‘You know me then?’ he asked, his voice low and clear as he reached forward to shake Logan’s hand. ‘I must say, it’s very odd to have all these people know my name when I haven’t the slightest clue who they are.’ He paused. ‘Then again, I suppose it’s also rather odd to close one’s eyes and open them again only to find that three years have passed in the literal blink of an eye, but – well – there you are.’

Logan went completely still. He stared at Charles in disbelief and tried to remind himself to breathe. His heart was suddenly beating very fast and somehow – incredibly, astoundingly, unbelievably – he knew that the person in front of him was not just a newly Programmed Doll.

‘Charles,’ he said in a strangled tone. ‘You’re Charles Xavier.’ He almost couldn’t believe his own words.

Charles – the _real_ Charles, he couldn’t help but marvel – smiled at him with something like amusement. ‘Yes,’ he said wryly, ‘In the flesh.’ He paused then and his mouth twisted deprecatingly. ‘Or, rather, in the _mind_. Seeing as that was what was missing all these days.’

Logan couldn’t speak. He knew that later he would remember this and kick himself but for now all he could was stare.

Charles frowned. ‘Are you quite all right?’ he asked gently, leaning forward on his toes and peering at Logan with curious eyes.

Logan coughed and shook his head. ‘I-’ he began but then he found himself looking at Charles once again and he couldn’t help himself. ‘Your accent,’ he said dumbly, unable to look away from Charles’s face. ‘It’s-’

‘British?’ Charles nodded. ‘Yes – the consequence of spending my formative years in England, I’m afraid.’

Logan swallowed. ‘Yeah,’ he rasped, before forcing himself to continue. ‘Somehow – somehow I’d always imagined that you’d have an accent like that.’ He couldn’t help remembering the RAF-pilot Program that Hank was so fond of inputting into Charles and he had to look away for a moment.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one who found that a bit awkward for when he looked up again Charles was frowning down at his feet and shifting uncomfortably. ‘I – I don’t quite know what to say to that,’ he said with a grim little smile, causing Logan to silently curse himself. Of course talking like that would make Charles uncomfortable – he had no idea who Logan even was.

He cleared his throat. ‘I’m Logan, by the way,’ he said gruffly, reaching out again to clasp Charles’s hand. He tried not to stare at their linked hands too hard – Charles’s looked so small in his. ‘Logan Howlett. I’m – I used to be your Handler.’

To his surprise, Charles showed some signs of recognition at his name and for a moment Logan almost believed that Charles retained some sort of memory of their time together as Active and Handler. Then Charles spoke. ‘Ah,’ he said, nodding to himself. ‘ _You’re_ Logan Howlett. Yes, Miss Frost told me about you.’

Logan stiffened at that. ‘She did, did she?’ he asked darkly, wondering what sort of things she had been telling Charles.

‘Yes,’ Charles affirmed, nodding thoughtfully. ‘She said that you were the one responsible for my care and safety over the past few years.’ He paused and met Logan’s eyes. ‘She said that you were by far the most dedicated and trustworthy of her Handlers and that I should be grateful to you for taking such good care of me during my time here.’ After a moment’s hesitation Charles slowly reached out and clasped Logan by the arm. ‘So thank you, Mr. Howlett,’ he said seriously, meeting Logan’s eyes and not looking away. ‘Logan – thank you.’

Logan, much to his own despair, found his throat going strangely tight at that. He scowled and glanced down at his feet to try to cover up his embarrassment, muttering something under his breath in order to wave aside Charles’s – very misplaced, he thought – gratitude. At the same time, a part of him wanted to puff out his chest in pride while the other half couldn’t help but puzzle over why Emma had gone to the trouble of being so very complimentary about him to Charles.

‘Yeah,’ he coughed, still staring down at the ground, ‘It was nothing. I was just – just doing my job.’

Something about that sentence seemed to be darkly amusing to Charles for he smiled wryly and shook his head. ‘Yes,’ he murmured, ‘You’re not the only one to have said that.’

Logan frowned at that but Charles seemed to be almost troubled by the words so he didn’t push for an explanation.

And just like that it struck him all over again. He was talking to Charles Xavier. Not Charles the Doll, not Charles the Programmed Persona, not any of those poor, cheaply-wrought imitations – no, he was talking to the _real_ Charles, the Charles that had come before any of those copies, the _true_ Charles, and he was – he was …

Logan snuck another look at Charles, who was chewing his lip and frowning thoughtfully, and he found his heart squeezing painfully inside his chest. And suddenly he couldn’t resist – he had to try it.

‘I-’ he hesitated as Charles glanced up, his gaze alert and intelligent and so very blue. ‘I just wanted to know if … Do you trust me?’ he gritted out clumsily, his mouth uncomfortably dry.

Charles cocked his head and looked at him, frowning slightly. ‘I beg your pardon?’ he asked.

Logan steeled himself. ‘Do you trust me?’ he asked again, making sure to make eye contact and trying to project the necessary aura of calmness and safety that was needed when making a connection with an Active.

Far from being calmed, however, Charles seemed to be nothing but confused. ‘Trust you?’ he repeated, astonished. ‘How on ea-’ Catching the look on Logan’s face he quickly forced himself into a calmer tone. ‘Mr. Howlett,’ he said gently, even as his forehead creased with lines of bemusement and worry, ‘ _Logan._ Surely you know my answer to that question.’ At the dissatisfied look on Logan’s face he continued on in a quiet tone. ‘My friend,’ he said softly. ‘I am sorry, but for all that I have heard of you from Miss Frost and for all that I have spent the last few minutes talking to you, I am afraid that I do not know you.’ He looked at Logan sadly. ‘How can you expect me to trust you?’

Logan looked away, not wanting to see the pity in Charles’s eyes. ‘Right,’ he said instead, his voice gruff. ‘I get that. It was stupid of me. Forget I asked.’

But Charles continued to look at him searchingly. After a moment he sighed. ‘If it’s any consolation,’ he said quietly, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Logan’s arm, ‘I think you are a good man. I think – I think that I could trust you to do what is right.’

Logan stared at Charles for a moment before snorting. ‘Yeah,’ he said sarcastically, unable to keep his mouth from curling up into a bitter smile. ‘Because that’s what we do here at the Dollhouse, isn’t it? The _right_ thing?’

Charles grimaced at that. ‘I see how that might be a tad contradictory,’ he admitted. ‘But nevertheless, sometimes that decision is taken out of our hands. We may not always be able to do what is right, but we can always do what we must.’ He smiled grimly. ‘Sometimes, even, the two of those things overlap.’

Logan did not fully understand what it was that Charles was saying but he got the feeling that he was talking more to himself than to Logan and so he remained silent.

After a few minutes Charles suddenly shook himself and raised his head. ‘I suppose that we had better get going,’ he said reluctantly.

Logan froze. They could leave, he thought wildly. He could take Charles – Charles who was now _himself_ – and they could leave before anyone could miss them and then Charles would be free and –

As if on cue a guard appeared at the end of the corridor, his gun strapped to his waist, and he nodded at Logan.

‘Miss Frost is waiting,’ the man said abruptly, before turning and walking away.

Logan grimaced. Damn Frost. Of course she would have him watched, especially when he was around Charles. She must have known that he would be tempted. That he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to save Charles one last time … 

Tucking the disappointment and self-loathing somewhere deep within his chest, Logan turned back to Charles. ‘Guess that’s our cue,’ he said gruffly, jerking his head towards the space that the guard had just vacated.

Charles let out a sigh and nodded. He didn’t look very happy but then Logan supposed that no one who was going back to what he was would be very happy about it.

‘Don’t worry,’ he found himself saying as they walked along the corridor towards the Programming Room. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.’

Charles smiled at that but it was a half-hearted attempt at best. ‘Thank you,’ he said anyway, but his face was shadowed in apprehension and his hands were clasped tightly by his sides. Logan felt a familiar surge of protectiveness course through him but he deliberately ignored it. While Charles the Active may have accepted his reassurances he was sure that the real Charles would find his clumsy attempts at comfort nothing but awkward.

They walked on in silence until they reached the Programming Room. When they got there they paused as if out of silent agreement and turned to look at each other.

‘So,’ Charles said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in nervous agitation. ‘I guess this is it.’

Logan did not respond.

‘I-’ Charles frowned and cleared his throat before trying again. ‘Thank you, Mr. Howlett,’ he said, holding out his hand once more. ‘I would like to say that I won’t ever forget what you have done for me, but – well, we’d both know that would be a lie, wouldn’t we?’

Logan eyed Charles for a second before letting out a soft snort and reaching out to grasp Charles’s hand in his. ‘You’re an odd man, Chuck,’ he said slowly, shaking Charles’s hand. ‘You’re nothing like I thought you’d be … but then again you are.’

Charles quirked a smile. ‘Sounds complicated.’

Logan shrugged. ‘People generally are.’

They stood like that for a moment, simply contemplating one another in silence.

‘I suppose we’d better go in,’ Charles said at last, sounding reluctant.

‘I guess we should,’ Logan replied evenly.

They stared at each other. Then, at Charles’s nod, Logan pushed the door open and they walked in.

Emma looked up from where she had been going over a set of charts on the desk.

‘You’re late,’ she said briskly, straightening up and turning towards them. She looked at Logan and raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d almost started to think that you had decided to run away together.’

Charles flushed at that but Logan merely narrowed his eyes. ‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ he growled. ‘But we’re not that stupid.’

Emma smirked. ‘Clearly,’ she murmured, although she gave Logan a knowing look. A moment later she was back to her usual, brusque self. ‘Mr. McCoy, if you would?’

There was a clatter and then Hank appeared from one of the connecting rooms, looking anxious and fretful. His face brightened when he saw Charles, however, and he gave him a genuine smile.

‘Hello, Charles,’ he said, coming forward to greet them.

‘Hello,’ Charles said coolly. His tone was polite but nothing more.

‘Everything alright?’ Hank queried. ‘Any dizziness or nausea or headaches since I asked you last?’ He abruptly leaned in close and began studying Charles without any hint of self-consciousness. Charles shook his head, his expression tight, and he deliberately took a step backwards in order to prevent having Hank’s face pressed up against his own. Unfortunately, Hank didn’t take the hint and took another step forward at which Logan was forced to intervene. He growled at Hank and gripped his shoulder tightly, preventing McCoy from moving any closer. Hank turned to him in surprise but when he saw the expression on Logan’s face he blinked and, upon realising just what he was doing, blushed bright red and took a quick few steps back.

‘Sorry,’ he stuttered, looking completely mortified. ‘I didn’t mean to be all – I’m just used to dealing with Actives, you know and you are – well. I mean – oh dear.’ He looked over at them mournfully. ‘I’m always forgetting to rein myself in. I did the exact same thing to-’ He cut himself off there, stuttering, before continuing on, still wringing his hands. ‘I’m so sorry, Charles – I mean, Mr. Xavier. I-’

‘Enough,’ Emma’s voice cut through his babble, her bored tone making it clear that she had no interest in listening to Hank’s poor attempts at an apology. She turned towards Charles. ‘It is time.’

Charles clenched his jaw but he nodded in a strangely fierce and determined way. Taking a deep breath, he then turned towards Hank and gave him a stiff little smile. ‘Well,’ he said, his expression one of forced amiability, ‘We had better get on with it, then, hadn’t we?’

Hank turned to glance at Emma and at her nod he immediately began to usher Charles over to the Chair which sat proudly in the centre of the room, its plush leather surface masking the true nature of its purpose.

‘Please take a seat,’ Hank said hurriedly, gesturing towards the Chair. 

Charles nodded but he didn’t move immediately. He looked at the Chair anxiously, biting his lip as he did so. Then, to Logan’s surprise, Charles raised his head and looked straight at him.

‘You’ll be here?’ he asked in a small voice that seemed completely at odds with the strength that Logan had seen in him before.

Logan nodded. ‘I will,’ he promised quietly.

Charles let out a sigh, looking relieved. He then hesitated before turning back to Logan once more. ‘And when I wake up again?’ he asked uncertainly, ‘When I’m _me_ again? Will you – will you be there then?’

Logan thought back to the contract that he had signed less than thirty minutes ago and he knew, even if it were only so that he could truthfully answer this question in this very moment, that he could safely say that he was glad that he had done so.

‘Yes,’ he said, meeting Charles’s eyes and refusing to look away. ‘Yes, I will be here.’

Charles stared at him for a while longer before finally nodding. ‘Okay,’ he said, ducking his head, and Logan watched as the vulnerability on his face was replaced with a look of fierce determination. ‘Okay.’ He turned to Emma. ‘I’m ready.’

At Emma’s nod, Hank immediately began to type out a string of commands on his keyboard before then turning to Charles again. He reached forward but then, remembering himself, drew back.

‘May I?’ he asked timidly, gesturing at the straps attached to the arms of the Chair. At Charles’s stiff nod he immediately got to work and Logan was forced to look away for fear that he would try to rip the whole damn room apart in anger and frustration. 

At last everything was connected up and there was no more reason to wait. 

Hank turned to Emma and nodded. ‘We’re ready,’ he said.

Emma’s eyes slid over to Charles. ‘I’ll be seeing you,’ she said quietly, meeting his eyes with a surprisingly firm gaze. Charles met her eyes in return and he nodded but he didn’t say anything. Instead he turned away, straightening his head and lying back on the Chair’s headrest, his tethered hands clutching at the Chair’s sides. His eyes fell directly onto Logan. His lips parted.

Then Hank pushed a button.

Logan shut his eyes and turned away, unable to look. He felt a coward for doing so but even then he couldn’t bring himself to watch. To see the fierce intelligence in Charles’s sharp blue eyes fade to nothing.

A noise from behind him distracted him and when he looked up he saw that it was over. Frost was standing, looking grimly satisfied while Hank was carefully removing the connections and restraints from Charles’s limbs, gently freeing him from the confines of the Chair. When Logan could eventually bring himself to look, he saw that Charles was once again his Charles – not the Charles Xavier of the keen intelligence and wary outlook but Charles the Active, soft and vague and trustful and completely and utterly perfect.

He felt sick.

Emma was watching him. ‘Go to him,’ she said when she saw him looking back at her. ‘He needs his Handler. Right now, that’s you.’ _Not for much longer_ , she didn’t say but Logan heard it loud and clear anyway.

He couldn’t say that he wouldn’t regret it, Logan thought ruefully as he slowly made his way towards the Chair. After all, Charles had been his charge for years and Logan had spent almost every minute of that time trying to make sure that he was healthy and safe and well-looked after. Things would be very different from now on, he knew, but he also knew that if anyone else could ever dedicate themselves to Charles in the way that he deserved then it was Lehnsherr.

He had to admit it: he was glad. If anyone had to replace Logan as Charles’s Handler then he was thankful that it was Lehnsherr. 

It didn’t mean that he was any happier about being replaced, though.

Drawing up to the side of the Chair, Logan looked down into the face of its lone occupant. Charles, blank and vague but still so definitely and undeniably _Charles_ , stared back at him, peaceful and trusting and content. 

Logan slowly reached down and took Charles’s right hand in his own. 

Charles blinked.

‘Did I fall asleep?’ he asked, looking at Logan earnestly.

Logan swallowed. ‘For a little while,’ he answered.

Charles considered this response. ‘Shall I go now?’ he asked after a moment.

‘If you like,’ Logan returned.

Charles nodded at that and made to vacate the Chair. He paused, however, when he found that his hand was still caught within Logan’s. He blinked and looked up at Logan, smiling trustingly.

Logan felt his throat stick and for a moment he couldn’t speak. Then, swallowing hard, he forced himself to say the words. ‘Charles,’ he rasped, his throat dry. He clutched the small pale hand he was holding tighter and brought his eyes to meet Charles’s. ‘Do-’ he licked his lips. ‘Do you trust me?’

Charles looked at him, watching him curiously. For a moment Logan didn’t even dare to breathe.

And then Charles smiled.

‘With my life,’ he said softly, smiling.

And Logan, even while hating himself with every single fibre of his being, could not help but feel glad.

**Author's Note:**

> The End.
> 
>  
> 
> … Okay so there is an epilogue as well :)
> 
>  
> 
> In all seriousness, though, I am well aware that this ending will not be to everybody’s liking. However, it is the ending that I have had in mind for a very long time and as such, I am pleased that it ended how I envisaged it. I just hope that you enjoyed it too. :)
> 
> Also, don’t fret too much: like I said – there’s an epilogue!


End file.
